After School
by chipperdyke
Summary: Sweet lady kisses.
1. Chapter 1: Firsts

_A series of one-shots that I keep wanting to write. Basically sex and dialogue. You know. The fun parts. _

_This is not meant to have a plot. _

_Read in any order you like._

__A bit of a violation of the M rating. I hope you folks aren't shy._ _

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><p><span>Firsts<span> (otherwise known as Freshman Year)

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><p>"Penguins love skinnydipping," Brittany pointed out seriously. "So they must be French." She sat on Santana's bed with a sigh, watching her friend walk into the room after her.<p>

"Ugh," Santana sighed dramatically, ignoring Brittany's comment. "I can't believe my parents forced me to go to the aquarium. Thanks for coming with."

Brittany shrugged. "It was great. I love watching mountain-rays."

Santana gave her a look at that, but it didn't stop her rant. "I mean, we're in high school now. I'm a cheerleader!"

"Me too," Brittany pointed out, pulling her hairband out and combing her hair with her fingers.

Santana sighed and sat on the bed next to Brittany. "This is just so embarrassing."

Brittany touched her arm, leaving her hair down. "You don't have to be embarrassed. Nobody knows but me."

Santana's lip twisted. "You're coming to the party next weekend, right?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I guess. As long as you're going. I don't know anybody who's gonna be there."

"Are you kidding me? All the Cheerios will be there."

Brittany looked at her, feeling vulnerable. "Yeah, but I barely know any of them."

"Also football players," Santana pressed animatedly, grabbing her friend's arm. "Hot football players."

"Oh. Yeah." Brittany shifted uncomfortably, looking down.

"I've decided to kiss one of them," Santana announced. And then it seemed that Brittany's discomfort was contagious, because then Santana slunk back, embarrassed. "I... I was thinking we could practice."

"Practice what?" Brittany was looking at her now, inquisitive.

"Kissing," Santana said nervously. "So I know I'm doing it right."

Brittany looked at her friend's lips, so full and round. "I bet you're already a really good kisser," she observed, a nervous excited tremor in her heart.

But Santana stood and walked to the window at that. "We don't have to," she said, not looking at Brittany.

"Oh," Brittany said, following her and grasping her own hair, having forgotten her hairband. "You don't want to anymore?"

Santana shrugged, looking away. "Maybe it's weird. But we all have lips, don't we?"

"I've never seen a guy with lips like yours," Brittany said honestly.

And then Santana turned to look at her. She adjusted Brittany's hair, pulling it around in front of her body, and then, still holding her hair, leaned forward.

Their lips pressed together, too hard, and then they backed off and Brittany stopped tightening her lips and they melted together, bringing a sweet mindlessness. They stayed together, surprised by the unfamiliar sensation; Brittany reflected that it felt very much the same as holding Santana in bed: tingly and full of anticipation. Except Santana's lips were so soft, and they tasted of her lip gloss and delicious chewy human taste.

She opened her lips, wanting to feel Santana's lips more fully, and the kiss deepened.

And then Santana stepped back away, searching Brittany's face. Brittany managed a smile through the heavy feeling in her throat and chest, down her legs and between them. "You taste good," she said.

Santana smiled vaguely back at her, pulling her to the bed and pushing her onto it. "Easier sitting down," she explained, and then brought her glorious delicious lips back.

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><p>They walked down the street silently, grasping each other's hands tightly. It was 12:45, an hour after their "curfew." From experience they knew that Santana's parents would already be asleep, but - "It was a great party," Brittany said hesitantly, slirring a little.<p>

"Oh yeah. Really great," Santana agreed, squeezing Brittany's hand tighter.

They hadn't really spoken since last Sunday when they'd parted, after a relatively sleepless (and breathless) Saturday night at Santana's house. A week without substantial interaction was terribly strange to both of them, but feeling strange and lonely was better than trying to fit what they'd done into their friendship, somehow.

"I'm sorry about this week," Brittany said suddenly. "I was scared of talking to your lips."

Santana giggled, a high, odd sound in the darkness. "I know what you mean," she said. "I'm glad we left then."

"Yeah. That guy was doing weird things to you."

"I didn't like it." The confession sounded strange. After all, wasn't that what guys did? And didn't girls like it? Brittany swallowed, remembering the kisses she'd shared with Santana. She'd been kissed by a guy, too, but it was Santana that was backed against a wall, Santana whose eyes were suddenly panicked in the flashing lights. Despite the shots that were pounding their way through her system, Brittany rushed to her friend's side instantly, pulling Santana away and then soon out the door.

"It'll be okay," Brittany said finally. "I bet he's just really bad at it."

"Yeah," Santana agreed. "I bet."

They arrived at Santana's house, let themselves quietly in the back door, and made their way to Santana's room. They stripped, put on pajamas, and then dove into Santana's bed, holding each other.

"Hey Brit?" Santana said after a pregnant pause. "You awake?"

"Yeah," Brittany said, breathless.

"Want to... um, kiss?"

"Yeah."

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><p>Four months passed.<p>

Santana lost her virginity at one of those parties.

Then Brittany did.

After every slimy detail was hashed and rehashed, Santana said, "But did you... did you like it?" They were laying in bed, legs intertwined, clutching each other.

Brittany shrugged. "It felt strange, and, like... like nails on chalkboard. Or really loud drums. But good."

"Kind of... um, like, it hurt?"

"Like I wanted him to stop or... slow down," Brittany said slowly.

Santana's arms tightened around her, and she put her head on Brittany's chest, just above her heart. "Me, too," Santana said finally. "Promise me... promise me if you do it again you'll tell whoever you're with? To slow down?"

"Isn't that the way you do it?"

Santana's arms tightened again, so hard it almost hurt. "Maybe you shouldn't do it then."

Brittany giggled. "We'd be bad cheerleaders if we didn't at all."

"Yeah. Plus everyone respects you more," Santana conceded. "If you're experienced. And you got to learn somehow."

"Too bad it feels so weird."

"Please don't do it if you don't like it," Santana begged, a strange note in her voice.

"But it's fun," Brittany said.

"Maybe not for us."

Brittany thought about this, and then turned to Santana and nuzzled her. "I know I like your lips."

Santana's reply was wordless but enthusiastic.

And today, Brittany did more than rub Santana's body and back through her shirt, or even stroke her naked stomach. She sild her hand up Santana's body to cup her breast gently, tentatively.

Santana paused, and then attacked Brittany with renewed vigor, holding her close. Eventually Brittany's hand stopped being numb from nerves, and she started to realize how soft and pliable Santana's breasts were, like her own but delightfully different, with a certain depth to them that Brittany could feel when Santana shifted. She wasn't sure what pushed her to do it. It felt like holding Santana, holding some secret, intimate part of her. It felt like control.

She forgot to breathe a few times, totally blown away by what Santana's tongue was doing in her mouth. The last time she almost passed out, she felt a hard nub under Santana's shirt. Her nipple. The thought made her heart skip a beat, though she couldn't say why. She wondered how it felt to Santana, and hoped she'd ask Brittany to move her hand if it bothered her.

Brittany kept herself still, loving the way that Santana nestled her body against hers. But the slinking desire to hold Santana's breasts persisted through the weeks, and soon it blossomed into the desire to rub and squeeze, and during winter break they found themselves in bed with both of their shirts off and Brittany's mouth on Santana's breast. Every time it was new, and then it was new again when Santana returned her gestures... and yet, every time it was easy, as natural as blinking at a bright light.

And every first renewed their trust, and deepened it, so that the next time was even easier. They stopped muffling their secret gasps, delighting in the noises they could raise. They squirmed and snuggled and laid on top of each other, vying for dominance.

And though they continued partying, somehow neither of them slept with a guy after that first time.

That is, until James.

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><p>James was on the football team. He was a hot, popular senior, obviously experienced in the ways of sex, and also newly single. He'd talked to Santana before, and when she heard he was single she... well, she approached him in a hallway and they made small talk. Then they got ice cream. After that they made out in a corner of the gym.<p>

And then they were an item. Pretty soon that became "dating." All in the space of a week. A week that, unsurprisingly, was void of any substantial Santana/Brittany interaction.

On Friday, though, Brittany seized her opportunity before it was gone and approached Santana at her locker. "Hey," she said awkwardly.

"Hey," Santana acknowledged, taking a book out of her backpack.

"You're coming over on Saturday night for movies, right?"

"Umm... not totally sure."

"Oh," Brittany said. "Well call me?"

"Sure," she said. And that was that.

It was probably jealousy. It wasn't every day that a hot, popular senior showed interest in a lowly freshman. The fact that this freshman was Brittany's best friend was just an unfortunate inconvenience.

It wasn't like they'd ever signed a contract or anything. They'd kissed men, even been groped by them. Yes, Brittany decided. She was jealous that James liked Santana and not herself, and hoped that she wouldn't lose a best friend over it. So it would be alright.

Santana didn't call on Saturday night, though. And so for the next two weeks Brittany walked around campus in a haze of dreary confusion.

Until one Friday night, very late, Santana called with a sort of odd desperation in her voice. "Can I come over?" she asked.

"Of course! Yeah! Right now?"

"Okay, I'm gonna walk."

"I'll meet you on Thrush."

"I'm coming from the mall," Santana corrected. "So, um, Harvey?"

"Okay." Brittany turned off her phone, threw on a jacket and took off, almost running to Harvey and then down it, looking for her friend under the flickering streetlights.

Santana was crying when they met, and for a few minutes it was all Brittany could do to pat her back and keep her feet. "I'm here, I'm here," she kept saying.

"James is fucking three girls," Santana said finally, wiping her nose. Brittany's heart did a little flip-flop dive of confusion. Santana cared so much. "But not me, so he told me about them. So I agreed to sleep with him. And we did."

"Tonight? Right now?" Brittany felt the deep flame of fury ignite in her gut.

"Yeah," Santana said, gripping Brittany's hand in an iron vise and starting to walk, still sniffing. "I left when he said," and she paused and hiccupped, "I was alright but I should move more."

"Oh," Brittany said, torn between incredulity, anger, and the desperate desire to make Santana feel better. "So it's over?"

"You kidding me? I have to tear his nasty gloating heart into little bitty pieces now."

Santana insisted on showering, scrubbing her body for far longer than was necessary. That night, they held each other for the first time in three weeks. Brittany's bed became a magical warm soft dark place, the only place where Brittany could soothe her friend's shattered soul, with hugs and soft murmurs of comfort. Brittany was delighted and appalled at the opportunity.

"Hey Brittany?" Santana said, and Brittany struggled through the thick sloppy filaments of exhaustion to wake. When her eyes flickered open, Santana continued. "You're the only person in the world I'd trust myself with."

"You're always safe with me," Brittany tried to say, but the words slurred into near-unrecognizability. It was still kind of dark outside, before the sun rose.

Santana understood, though, rubbing her foot against Brittany's.

"I wish..." Santana struggled. "I wish you were a guy."

"Mmmm?" Brittany mumbled.

"Or... or I was a guy. So we could be like Quinn and Finn, a thing, and people would respect us. So we wouldn't have to date or mess around with other people."

"We don't have to," Brittany said, but Santana ignored her, instead sliding her hand up from Brittany's waist, rubbing her back. She kissed a soft line along Brittany's neck, and then nibbled on her ear.

Suddenly Brittany wasn't sleepy anymore. "Mmm, that feels so nice," she moaned.

"I know," Santana said evilly, and Brittany recognized the mood. Brittany would have little say in what was done to her now.

She started slow, though, drawing soft little circles on Brittany's ass with her fingers, kissing around the collar of Brittany's sleeping shirt and then the skin between her shirt and her pants. Brittany unbottoned her shirt from the bottom, and Santana kissed slowly up the line of smooth skin as it was revealed, finally flattening her body against Brittany's and kissing her lips, soft and slow. Brittany grasped the back of Santana's head and deepened the kiss, glorying in their renewed closeness. "I missed talking to you," Brittany said.

"Me too. And I missed your lips," Santana informed her, businesslike. "And your boobs," she said, taking them both in her hands and propping herself up with her elbows. She dipped her head and slowly licked Brittany's nipple, watching it harden, and then licked her other nipple, brushing the first with her thumb.

Brittany arched into the touch, breath quickening. "I'll eat lunch with you after I destroy James," Santana informed her, temporarily dampening Brittany's excitement. Santana noticed, and corrected, "While I'm destroying James."

"I miss you a lot when you're with him," Brittany said sadly.

"I know," Santana said. "But we have to keep our reputations up. Hey, anyway, you've kissed more guys than I have."

"Yeah, but kissing..."

"Well," Santana considered. "I'm yours right now."

"Mine?" Brittany said, processing.

"Yours," Santana confirmed, kissing Brittany again and starting with featherlight touches on Brittany's boob. "I'm all yours."

Brittany decided she really liked that idea, responding to Santana's touch by spreading her legs a little, letting one of Santana's legs slip between hers. Her arousal was like a slap, burning into her core almost intolerably, making her press Santana's hands harder on her breasts and bite Santana's tongue.

Surprised, Santana plunged her tongue into Brittany's mouth more forcefully, squeezing her breasts and then softly tweaking her erect nipples. Brittany pulled off Santana's shirt, longing for Santana's naked skin like a drowning man longs for air, with a sort of desperate need. Without even a touch, Santana's nipples were already stiff against her stomach, her skin like dusky chocolate against Brittany's whiteness. Brittany broke their kiss to bite Santana's bony shoulder, putting her hands on either side of her friend's chest and grinding Santana's breasts into her stomach.

Santana growled in response, sliding her body up Brittany's, bringing her core against Brittany's upper thigh and putting light pressure on Brittany's core, too. The burning pain between Brittany's legs lingered, but it was quick being replaced by a flood of warm, wet arousal, and she could feel the warmth between Santana's legs, too. Santana grasped her breast in one hand, and Brittany nuzzled at her chest, wiggling down to take Santana's erect nipple into her mouth, rolling it with her tongue and then with her teeth, lightly.

Santana grunted and sloppily grasped Brittany's head, holding it close to her chest. And then she started moving her hips, slowly grinding into the lower part of Brittany's stomach. They'd done that before, but somehow this seemed deeper, maybe harsher, than before. If what they did was ever a game, it ceased to be one in that moment. Santana's movements put rhythmic pressure on Brittany, and Brittany started grinding back, gasping through Santana's boob.

She put her hand down to grasp Santana's ass, pushing her down so that their hips were together, and Santana ground on the top of Brittany's thigh. This brought Santana's eyes almost on level with Brittany's, and Brittany was shocked at how flushed her friend's face was, how swollen her lips were. They both paused in surprise, searching each other's eyes.

And then Brittany kissed Santana, using the hand she had on Santana's ass to push her body into Brittany's. Santana gasped, and then pulled away. Brittany had only a moment to be embarrassed before she realized what Santana was doing: pulling off Brittany's pajama pants.

She wiggled to make the job easier, and then laid motionless under Santana, naked except for her panties, wondering what Santana had in mind. Neither of them had ever taken off their pants.

Santana was taking off her own now, slipping them off and then placing her body on top of Brittany's again. Brittany had thought there was no way to feel closer, but she realized she was wrong. This was closer than they'd ever been. And the wetness on Santana's panties against her thigh was undeniable.

She suddenly had the desire to eat Santana whole, to surround her with glorious sweet love and never let her out, keep her here. Keep her heart beating so hard and fast against her chest, keep her eyes looking so warmly into hers, keep her... keep her fingers dancing so tentatively along the waistband of her panties.

There was a question in Santana's eyes now, and Brittany wondered what it was. "You're mine," Brittany whispered. "Right?"

"I'm yours," Santana said, and Brittany took her hand and guided it under the waistband of her panties, opening her legs a little more to accommodate her friend's hand. She closed her eyes for half a second, but then Santana slipped her finger between Brittany's lips and her eyes flew open again, locking with Santana's. She swallowed, gasping, as Santana slowly stroked her.

Something light and happy twisted in Brittany's gut. "That's amazing," she managed. Santana stroked her again, experimentally, and Brittany's hips bucked a little. She grunted, and Santana rolled partway off her, allowing their chests to touch and giving Santana the flexibility to fully explore Brittany on the outside. Halfway through the exploration, Brittany's light, airy feeling turned into a heavy, needy one, just as happy but with an edge of expectation.

Whenever Santana stroked the top of her, the oddest, numb excitement spiked in her, and before she knew it she was bucking into Santana's hand, her body sweaty wherever it touched Santana's.

Santana kissed her again, and then her hand found the place again and Brittany exploded, the amazing feeling flooding her body with hot sweet pure delight, sparks exploding behind her eyes. "Oh," she said in surprise, pulling her lips from Santana's and riding the wave, and then her body was limp and Santana was crawling back on top of her, raining kisses on her face.

"Mmmm," she moaned, managing to put her arms around Santana's body. "I think I just had a heart attack."

"Yeah," Santana agreed, settling her body on her friend's and grinding a little, noninvasively, on her friend's leg while she examined her soaking index and second finger.

"Kiss me again," Brittany said, and Santana abandoned her examination and kissed her. The lingering desperate want in Santana's lips reignited a tiny fire in Brittany's chest, and she put her hand between her friend's legs, pushing lightly.

Santana rolled into it, so Brittany moved her hand in a circular motion between her legs. Santana groaned, flattening her body and stiff nipples against her friend's.

It was over in moments, her friend's orgasm tearing through her body, making her twitch and collapse on Brittany. Brittany grinned happily, stroking Santana's back and kissing her cheek over and over again. "You're amazing," she said in delight.

"I'm... tired," Santana said, so Brittany fished for the covers and pulled them over the pair's prostrate bodies, snuggling under Santana. The sun was just coming up as they drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2: Fallen

_I would like to dedicate today's smut to the Glee Wiki. Without you, I would have to watch the show._ _(Right, also, if this violates canon I apologize profusely.)_

_Also, congratulations to Naya Rivera and Heather Morris for landing #1 and #2 on AfterEllen's Hot 100!_

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><p><strong><em>WARNING: This is almost BDSM and skates on the edge of nonconsensual. Also, this is very strictly MA - if you are under 18, please push that browser back button and find some other Brittana better suited to your age.<em>**

**_If this is not your thing, SKIP THIS CHAPTER. The rest of this is pretty friendly and nice, but this chapter IS NOT FRIENDLY OR NICE. Don't like don't read._**

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><p>Brittany had felt unbearably dirty all day. The sticky of road travel from sectionals didn't help at all, so she drove home and immediately began scrubbing in the shower, glad that her parents were away. <em>Why don't you come on over, Valerie. <em>She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the endless audio loop, feeling strange, guilty, and suffocatingly sad.

The sound of her bathroom door opening made her jump, but before she had a chance to react the shower curtain was jerked open and she found herself face to face with the least likely person: Santana. "Two rules," Santana said.

"Santana," Brittany said happily. It had been so long since she'd stood naked in front of her friend. She relished the opportunity, taking in Santana's semiformal business suit. It was opened casually, revealing a white blouse stretched tight across her breasts.

"One: no talking. Two: don't touch me. Ever."

"What? Why?" Brittany said, but that was all she had time for before Santana grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the shower, dripping.

Brittany stumbled awkwardly over the lip of the bath, and then reeled away as Santana slapped her, hard. "No talking."

Brittany held her cheek, looking at Santana with wide eyes. Santana had never hit her before. Nobody had hit her but her parents, and that was a long time ago.

She flinched away from Santana's hand, but Santana just brushed some water off her forehead, and then her nose. And then she stepped closer, bringing her lips to Brittany's ear. "Understood?"

When Brittany's hand dropped down, Santana bit Brittany's ear. "You can nod."

Brittany nodded obediently, suddenly curious about what Santana had in mind. Santana would never hurt her, not really. This must be a game. Well, the timing was strange, but - Santana licked her neck, sending shivers along Brittany's rapidly cooling body. She then bent and nipped both of Brittany's nipples, sharp pricks of something that was almost pain but sent Brittany's pulse rushing. If she'd had any doubts about the course of the evening, they all disappeared in a flash of desire. Santana's featherlight touch cleaned her as the soap couldn't, and she relished the feeling of freedom.

Her hands fluttered up to rest on Santana's shoulders, but Santana shook them off and glared at her. "No touching," she reminded Brittany, and then dropped to her knees to lick the insides of Brittany's thighs, making Brittany close her eyes. Santana's movements were the inverse of slow and sweet - hard and aggressive, and oddly intimate, almost invasive. There was not a stitch of tenderness in her, not even as she stood and held Brittany's ass to pull their bodies together, looking deep into Brittany's eyes.

"You are to do what I say. Every word, question nothing."

Brittany nodded, mezmerized by Santana's eyes and the husky tone of her voice.

"You are mine, and I will use you." Santana's hands slid up Brittany's wet back, and she bit Brittany's bottom lip.

Brittany tried to make it into a kiss, suddenly desperately hungering for Santana. _Use me_, she thought wonderingly. _I guess that's what we've always done_.

Santana pulled away and slapped her again, not as hard this time but somehow even harsher, more deliberate. "Ow," Brittany muttered, pulling away.

Santana grabbed her wrist, stopping her from holding her cheek. "Go lay on your bed, on your back."

Brittany hesitated, wrestling with herself. On one hand, Santana had just hit her twice, violently, with something like anger burning in her eyes. On the other, the pain was from Santana, and as it faded her desire followed hard on its heels, feeding on the pain. She'd never felt this way before, but - it wasn't so bad. Pain shouldn't turn her on, but it did, and so did the burning in Santana's eyes.

This was Santana, her best friend. She trusted Santana more than anyone in the world. And if she didn't obey, Santana would leave, and she would feel dirty again. If she did what Santana said - maybe Santana would let her touch her eventually. So she turned and walked the few paces from her bathroom to her bed, head filled with the thought of Santana's wet core.

Santana followed close on her heels, so that Brittany could almost feel the heat of her body as she slipped onto the bed. Santana slithered up to nuzzle Brittany's face, straddling Brittany's hand and giving a glimpse under her shirt. Brittany bit her lip to control the impulse to touch her.

That is, until Santana took her hand and put it on Brittany's thigh, putting her leg over Brittany's and trapping Brittany's hand between her core and her thigh. Santana's eyes fluttered shut as Brittany worked her hand, watching Santana's face and wishing she wasn't wearing pants.

Then Santana's eyes snapped open, and the burning was back. She raised her eyebrows, but Brittany just gave her a little smile and unzipped her fly with her other hand.

Santana lashed out, grabbing Brittany's free hand and trapping it on the bed. "Don't touch me," Santana said, the steel in her voice belied by her quickening breath. _Then why did she put my hand there?_ Brittany wondered. _How could I stop myself from touching her?_

Santana let her wrist go and put her hand on Brittany's breast, mezmerized by it until Brittany pressed her leg up to bring her face on level. She caught Santana's lips in another tender kiss, and Santana didn't resist this time, melting into her and starting to touch Brittany's boob. "Yes," Brittany whispered, and slipped her free hand under her panties' waistband, and then lower, questing.

"No!" Santana almost shouted, pulling away and scrambling off the bed toward her bag. Brittany followed her, but Santana had her back turned and Brittany suddenly remembered how she'd slapped her. She hesitated.

Santana turned around, and there was rope in her hands, a sickly lime green cord. "You're not obeying," Santana said, and took Brittany's hands in hers.

Brittany looked at her silently, ashamed. But as Santana started tying her hands, she remembered the wetness on her fingers, feeling how thick it was. Santana led her to her dresser, and Brittany suddenly realized her plan: the top of the dresser had spikes, perfect for hanging something on. But Brittany was obsessed with the wetness on her fingers, wanting to taste it - wanting to taste Santana, and more. Wanting to make Santana scream. So instead of thinking about her imminent entrapment, as Santana brought her hands up Brittany pulled away a little to put her own fingers in her mouth.

It wasn't half as good as the real thing, but it was something. She let Santana pull her fingers out, and slip her bound hands over the spike. Santana was visibly shaken by the display, and she avoided Brittany's gaze, stepping away. Maybe she wasn't going to do anything.

Long moments passed. Brittany wiggled uncomfortably, feeling raw and vulnerable with her hands suspended. Her body was naked and open, too open for the tenseness of the moment. When Santana moved, she almost flinched. But Santana just stepped forward and pressed her body against Brittany's, laying her cheek on Brittany's neck. Santana was nestling against her, oddly, as if she was suddenly giving over control. The feeling was exquisite, and absolute need replaced her fear.

"Please," Brittany whispered, and with that word Santana reached up and pulled the rope back over the spike. When she pulled away, her eyes hit Brittany like a brick. They were dark with something Brittany had only seen a few times. She realized that Santana was desperately sad.

Brittany thought they were going to the bed, but Santana passed it for the bathroom, where the water was still running. Brittany was almost surprised into speaking when Santana stepped into the shower, standing under the stream of water and looking expectantly at her. "Come here," she said.

And Brittany came, scrambling over the lip of the bath to stand between Santana and the jet of water. Santana's suit was already soaked, though, and it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. Brittany stared at her breasts, and then skipped her gaze to Santana's face, wondering.

Santana wound her fingers in Brittany's hair and kissed her deeply, sinking down and pulling Brittany on top of her. When she was laying completely on the cold linoleum, she took Brittany's hand and slipped it into her pants, completely upsetting Brittany's balance and making her collapse onto Santana. Her hands were still tied together, so it was impossible for her to prop herself up in this position except by pressing on Santana's belly. It wasn't hard to see Santana's face, only upsetting, because the water was jetting directly on her face.

But Brittany's fingers were in Santana's underwear, and the angle wasn't too bad. She could gain leverage by pushing off the bottom of the tub, and Santana's body wanted her so badly that when she pushed her hand into Santana's pants all the way, two of her fingers slipped inside almost accidentally. It made Santana's body shake and her legs wrap around Brittany's body, heels digging into Brittany, urging her on.

When Brittany started stroking her inside, Santana cursed loudly. She was so deep that she could only reach the soft fleshy part and Santana's swelling G-spot, and she played with them for a few minutes, pressing her hips hard against Santana's groin and grasping her hip. Then she pulled her hips away, allowing her fingers to pull out far enough to hit the more sensitive plate, and then she shifted focus slightly and rubbed Santana's clit with the heel of her hand.

"Brittany!"

The word burst from Santana's lips, and Brittany answered it immediately. "I need you," she said, realizing it was true, realizing that she could not tolerate the weeks apart, the constant burning fury in Santana's eyes. "I need you," she repeated, and then she started a rhythm with the heel of her hand and her fingers, and the look on Santana's face made her worried that she was crying, made her realize that this was probably why they were in the shower. Those words were okay for her to say, apparently, so she repeated them again, and then again. They were good words. They were ownership words, and vulnerable, too, and maybe Santana should be crying, because she'd made them both hurt so badly. She'd destroyed them both, so maybe that water in her face was right.

But it wasn't. Santana shouldn't be crying, not when Brittany was willing to give her everything, _tried_ to give her everything. "I need you," Brittany said again, and then sacrificed the angle to slither up to Santana's face, kissing her eyes. "Don't cry."

"Don't say that," Santana said sharply. "Don't say anything. Don't make a sound."

So Brittany shut her mouth, recoiling. There was the fury again. Maybe if she focused on her fingers Santana would stop crying. Maybe she would cry harder. Maybe she would shake and moan and maybe her body would take over, and they could be just two bodies. Then everything Brittany could give would be enough, enough to fill Santana's body with the purest trembling beauty, and they could stay locked together this way until they were both dead from the perfection of the moment.

"Look at me," Santana said, chest heaving, raking her fingers on Brittany's back.

_She doesn't like eye contact now,_ Brittany thought, but raised her gaze off Santana's breast, which she was licking and flicking in turns through Santana's thin, waterlogged shirt. Santana was looking at her, blinking away the water from the shower. "I can feel your want in your eyes," Santana said. "How you need me." Brittany's insides turned at that, and she couldn't hold back a moan. "I can feel it all inside me," Santana finished, and then she finished, crying out and throwing her head back, her body rippling inside and out.

And then Santana's arms were around her, pulling her up to her chest, and Santana's body was shaking, a moan of utter agony escaping her lips. "Hold me, Brittany," Santana said, and struggled to untie Brittany's hands, finally succeeding. Brittany tried to smother her with her body, and for a few minutes that seemed to be enough, and Santana's sobs subsided.

Finally Santana sat up and turned off the shower, and a desperate panic overtook Brittany. "Don't leave," she said, clinging to Santana. "Please, please don't leave."

Her panic was justified, because when Santana turned her eyes on Brittany her gaze was cold. "What, do you want to cuddle and make ladybabies?"

Brittany shook her head, withdrawing. "Do you want me to say silly things and sing songs with you?" Brittany shook her head again, grimacing. "Or maybe you just want this," Santana said, and she gathered Brittany's body in her arms, cradling her on crossed legs, with her ass pressed against Santana's crotch and her legs and body over each leg. And then Santana slipped one slick finger between Brittany's soaking folds.

"Mmmm yes," Brittany said, caught in the moment, forgetting her shame and the still-sharp pang of rejection. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the coldness in Santana's. "Stay inside me, don't -" Santana manipulated her fingers, and then dipped her head to take Brittany's nipple into her mouth, evoking a long incoherent moan. "Don't leave," Brittany said finally, and Santana pumped slowly, breathing heavily again.

"I couldn't leave now if I tried," Santana said huskily, and Brittany opened her eyes to see that the coldness had completely evaporated, leaving the dark sad look from before, overlaid by absolute lust.

"This isn't all I want," Brittany said.

"Shut your mouth," Santana said, and pumped harder, with more finesse.

But there was no anger there, and so the only thing stopping Brittany from speaking was the same thing that made breathing hard: Santana's fingers and her tongue. But Brittany found she could not find the words to say. What did she want from Santana? Not just this. She wanted her best friend back, and she wanted this, and she wanted Santana to stay in her room, preferably in her bed... forever, kind of. She could feel her friend's body shake with the depth of her desire for her, even now, only touching her. She could feel the fire in Santana's arm, and it was that fire that made Santana's fingers penetrate so much more, penetrate deeper than her body itself. If they could do this, why on earth would Santana leave? _How_ could she?

"Don't leave," Brittany said again. "Stop moving, Santana, you're going to make me come... I'm going to come but don't take your fingers out... Santana, don't leave me."

She was still aftershocking when Santana pushed her away and stood, leaving.

"Don't tell me what to do," Santana said, but there was no irony in her voice. There was nothing in her voice at all as she walked out the bathroom door, and then she was gone.

It was a half hour later and Brittany was shivering in the bathtub when she finally summoned a fully coherent thought. It was this: _At least I have Artie._


	3. Chapter 3: Fuckbuddies

_Reordered the chapters a bit. Not a big deal._

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><p><span>Fuckbuddies<span> (otherwise known as "I want sex more than I'm angry")

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><p>"Hey." Santana was brief and direct. "I'm coming over after school."<p>

Brittany's face lit up adorably. "Really?"

"Of course. It's not like I hate you," Santana informed her, closing her locker. This was news to Brittany, as intended.

"I don't hate you either!" Brittany said excitedly, following Santana.

"Your class is that way," Santana informed her coldly, and Brittany's face fell a little as she turned and walked the other direction. See, it wasn't exactly that she _forgave_ Brittany. It was just... "I'll see you in an hour," she added, calling after her best friend.

The car ride was uneventful; Brittany's house was close, so Santana only managed to tailgate four people and beep obnoxiously over "Bad Romance" once. Brittany was recently obsessed with the song, and Santana tolerated the endless loop, giggling at her friend's antics.

"So, what are we doing?" Brittany asked cheerfully as she unlocked the front door. She was a latchkey child, which is why they always went to her place; Santana's mother was home.

"I thought we'd watch Pinapple Express," Santana suggested, taking Brittany's pinkie in hers and pulling her up the stairwell. Brittany loved Pinapple Express; she'd successfully found no less than five pineapples (Santana wasn't sure about the last one), and used every opportunity to search for more.

Brittany's room, as always, looked like something out of a Barbie commercial if you ignored the occasional bra strewn about. Brittany went to her video collection, and Santana took the opportunity to strip off her shirt, standing naked in the middle of the room when Brittany turned around.

"Oh!" Brittany squeaked, her eyes glued to her friend's (fake) breasts.

Santana giggled at that. "Put in the movie," she said.

"Okay," Brittany said, dropping the DVD on the floor and walking up to Santana, her eyes still fixed on Santana's boobs.

Santana put her arms on Brittany's shoulders, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. It felt so real, so natural, so perfect that Santana fell into Brittany, molding her body to her friend's. Brittany's hands flew to Santana's hips, touching them with featherlight fingers, and then running her fingers eagerly up Santana's flat stomach to cup her breasts. Santana moaned into Brittany's mouth, arching into her and feeling her nipples harden instantly.

"I missed you," Santana panted.

And suddenly Brittany stepped backward, out of Santana's reach. "I have a boyfriend!" she said, remembering Artie.

"So?" Santana said. "Never stopped us before."

"When _you_ had a boyfriend. Now's different."

"That's right," Santana said. "Different plumbing, different purposes... he doesn't care. What we do doesn't count as cheating, remember? It's not sex."

"Oh," Brittany said, brow crinkling. "I should tell him, shouldn't I?"

"But then he might say we can't," Santana said illogically, but Brittany bought it.

"Okay," she said, taking Santana's hand and leading her to the bed. "Let's get snuggly."

Santana slipped out of her miniskirt and burrowed under Brittany's covers, watching her friend unfasten her bra. When Brittany only had her panties on, Santana lifted the covers for her, and Brittany slipped her spare frame in, unaccountably smiling. "I'm so glad you're not mad at me anymore," she said, hugging Santana. Their breasts pressed together, a soft womanly mash.

Santana felt her body responding to their nakedness easily, a warmth creeping into her frigidness, relaxing her. It was probably because they did this so many times; her body was so accustomed to Brittany's. She felt safe, at peace, for the first time in a month. And she felt alive. She wiggled her body to increase the surface area shared, slipping her leg between her friend's and stroking her back. "It was dumb," she confessed, avoiding Brittany's eyes. "I don't even remember why I was angry."

"It was because I was dating Artie," Brittany said helpfully, eliciting a growl from Santana's throat. The warmth was suddenly chilly.

"Please don't say his name."

"K," Brittany said, and then she started rubbing Santana's back and side, making her skin ripple in pleasure and bringing up goosebumps. The chill disappeared in a wave of relief and teasing almost-satisfaction. Brittany giggled at Santana's reaction, slipping a hand down to grasp Santana's ass, which Santana responded to by kissing Brittany's sensitive neck, and then licking the top of her collarbone. Brittany giggled again, her nipples hardening against Santana's breasts satisfyingly.

Santana pushed her onto her back and straddled her hips, bringing her core into contact with Brittany's mound. She wondered whether two layers of underwear would be enough to hide her wetness, grinding a little on Brittany and pinching her friend's erect nipples. "You're a hot cheerleader," she observed to Brittany. "Do you know how many men want to get under that tiny skirt of yours?"

"They're not going to," Brittany said, reciting the words they'd spoken to each other so many times. "Not tonight." She responded to Santana's grinding by thrusting gently, which escalated the other girl's movements.

"And why not, gorgeous thing?"

"You're mine tonight," Brittany whispered, and Santana bent down to kiss her again, flattening her body against Brittany's and incidentally pressing her clit against her friend's pubic bone. Brittany moaned in response, and Santana wondered fleetingly when exactly it was that Brittany had learned so well what gave her pleasure, reacting to those things as if they'd been done to her. Brittany's lips were possessive now, and her fingers skittered against Santana's body, first gripping her breasts and then raking her back with her fingernails.

And then Brittany sat up, pushing Santana back onto the bed, which threw off their covers completely. She settled her head between her friend's legs, nuzzling Santana's soaking underwear with a devilish expression on her face.

Santana squirmed out of them, panting, and put her legs back on either side of Brittany's face. Brittany kissed her wet folds, and then licked her thoroughly, brushing her clit softly with the tip of her tongue before plunging in again, teasing the woman's entrance and then slipping her tongue inside, licking her spongy top plate. The deeper, more intimate contact was strange to Santana, so very different from a penis; new, and so wonderful that she cursed out loud.

Brittany stopped, peeking her head up worriedly. "Don't stop," Santana managed, but Brittany avoided going inside again, lapping at Santana's juices and then wigging her tongue against Santana's clit.

The orgasm was like a flash of lightning, quick and gone too soon. Brittany knew she came, she always knew, but she didn't stop, licking the rest of her vulva while Santana worked up her energy again, and then kissing her clit, kissing the inside of her thighs and grasping her ass.

"Can I go inside?" Brittany asked deferentially. "You're so... thick today, San."

"You don't like it?" Santana managed, whispering through her arousal.

"I love it," Brittany said, and Santana could see the utter honesty in her friend's face. "I love it when you squeeze my fingers, too. And you're so thick, it works so well when you're like this."

Somehow her friend's confession turned Santana on even more. "Come here," she said, pulling on Brittany and kissing her wet lips through her doe-eyed expression. Brittany was passive, waiting for Santana to decide, giving her body up to Santana. "Take me, sweetheart," Santana finally said.

Brittany took her time, gentle, beginning with one finger, sliding in and most of the way out, not putting too much pressure on her. Santana moaned, and the most amazing warmth spread from her core, waves of something soft and pure. "I love your long fingers," Santana whispered. "I love how gentle you are."

Brittany looked at her with adoration in her eyes and added a finger, and suddenly it was so much more than warmth - it was tingling icy fire, impossibly sweet, impossible driving need too, so deep and soft and full. "Brittany," Santana said, and then forgot what she was going to say, lost in the sensation, her eyes rolling back and her skin suddenly numb and tender. "Brittany!"

When she came down she was crying, great sobs wracking her. "Shh, shh," Brittany said, patting her with a guilty expression on her face. "I'm sorry. I love you rippling around me, I love you squeezing..."

Santana clung to her friend, her sobs subsiding. "You're mine," Santana said finally, the relief coming right before the exhaustion. Brittany nodded to her, and then slid behind her, spooning. She kissed her neck.

"Don't you... want..." Santana said incoherently.

"Later," Brittany said. "I want to watch you sleep."

"Okay," Santana said, and dropped off like a sack of lead.


	4. Chapter 4: Feelings

_Okay, look guys. I really, really do appreciate all the favorites - don't think I don't. If you're so overcome by my story that you can do nothing put push that little "Go" at the bottom, I understand. But I would really love to hear what you have to *say* about this story!_

_... Plus it's embarassing. Seriously? 4 comments? Right now I have double that many alerts, and quadruple (that's right, folks, FOUR times) that many favorites. Mixed messages! You're worse than Santana!_

_Also, I have recently discovered Heather Morris' boobs. I'm a horrible lesbian._

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><p><span>Feelings<span> (otherwise known as "that time we were happy for like four days")

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><p>Santana was going to tell Brittany that it couldn't possibly be better after talking about their feelings. She already <em>had<em> feelings, after all. Sam'd wanted to talk about feelings, but it was never any better with him afterwards (not that he was horrible). It wasn't the talking that made it better. It was the feelings themselves.

But the thought fled her mind when Brittany closed the door behind her. Because she could already feel the tingling warmth of Brittany, nestled somewhere under her sternum, and when Brittany's eyes fell on her it was like the fire that had been burning in her all day was suddenly all-consuming. She practically ran the pace and a half to Brittany, and, taking her hand, kissed her lips, deep and slow.

Brittany returned the slow kiss, but Santana could feel her holding back. Santana stopped kissing her, and Brittany immedately said, "San, can we... just cuddle?"

She looked almost abashed, and Santana rushed to comfort her, cupping her face. "Of course," she said, and then went on the tips of her toes and kissed Brittany's forehead.

"So you're my girlfriend now?" Brittany asked, and there was this sort of exquisite innocence in her voice that cut the unexpected bite out of her question.

"I... I guess so," Santana conceded, sitting on the bed and looking up at Brittany, who still looked a little like a confused puppy. "Unless it bothers you to switch so fast."

"No," Brittany said with certainty. "I want to be with you." She sat beside Santana on the bed, stroking her hair and looking thoughtful. "This is the way it was always supposed to be. You should never have gone with James, or Puck, or Sam, or any of those other boys." She was almost accusatory, her brow furrowing.

"And you shouldn't have made out with the male half of McKinley. We all do things we shouldn't," Santana said, temper flaring.

Brittany's hand dropped to her side, shaking her head to dismiss Santana's dismissal. "Santana, if you back out on me -"

"Don't even finish that sentence." She took a moment to collect herself. "I'm not going to, I've made my choice. I don't want to come out, but if you want me to so badly..." _I'll do even that for you._

"Okay," Brittany said, and then finally she was smiling, for maybe the second time that day (the first was when Santana agreed to go on her show). She wiggled so that she was leaning against Santana's headboard. "I hope your mom doesn't walk in on us again."

Santana giggled at that, and made to approach Brittany on her hands and knees, like a prowling animal. She even growled when she got to Brittany's face, gnashing her teeth until Brittany went for her underarms, tickling her mercilessly. But her attack didn't last long; she almost immediately relented, wrapping her legs around Santana's and pinning her arms too, breathing hard into Santana's ear.

After the initial wave of arousal passed, Santana managed to squrim in protest. "Hey! Let me go!"

"No," Brittany whispered sexily in her ear, and the words went straight to Santana's clitoris, making her tingle and want. Brittany giggled. "Your nipples are hard."

Santana tried to scowl at her, but the grin shone through. "I mean, you're touching me. Did you expect any different?"

Brittany nuzzled her nose, still holding her motionless. "So now you're really mine," she said, and it was like she didn't really believe it. "After you said you loved me, I wondered what it would be like... I mean, I wanted to..."

"Is it as bad as you expected?" One of these days, Santana was going to figure out how to ask a real question about something meaningful.

"As great, you mean?" Brittany released her, and Santana turned to lay completely on top of Brittany, her legs between her lover's and her elbows propped up right beneath Brittany's arms. The pose left Santana's clit perilously close to Brittany's, but Santana figured that anything not involving grinding or nakedness qualified as cuddling.

Brittany certainly didn't seem to mind, a sort of devious smile lighting her features. "I love this shirt, San," she said, and Santana glanced down to get an eyeful of her own boob.

She rolled her eyes. "Kinda earth-mothery, isn't it?"

"You're like a nymph."

"I do kind of feel like one right now," Santana admitted, unwittingly misunderstanding. "I hope this whole cuddle thing doesn't last forever." She shifted, and her clit ground into Brittany's mound, bringing temporary relief followed by increased agitation. Santana bit her lip.

"No. Just till you go to sleep," Brittany said, and then she encircled Santana's shoulders and brought her in for a kiss. Santana lost herself in it, delighting in Brittany's escalation and then pulling her down again, slowing the pace, and then again slipping her tongue in, tasting in slow swirls.

It took a few minutes for her to realize she was grinding. When she did, she slowed down and broke the rhythm of the kiss, which made Brittany pull away and look at her. Brittany smiled vagely and said, "Do-dat-doot!"

Santana's eyebrow shot up. "What?"

"Stop making a fool out of me... why don't you come on over, Valerie. I loved that song. The whole time I was thinking, please, come on over."

Santana giggled. "I know." She pushed on Brittany's chest. "But I went to your place."

Brittany moaned and her eyes closed partway. "You were so _angry_, San, and I thought I was cheating..."

Santana suddenly felt vulnerable. "Maybe we were," she admitted, focusing on Brittany's collar, tracing it again and again.

"What?" Brittany panicked; she sat partway up, bringing up her knee and jostling Santana partially off her.

"Nevermind," Santana said, pushing her back down and kissing her sudden confused guilt away.

"I love you," Brittany mumbled through the kiss, and finally her hands ran down Santana's arms, and then down her chest, looping down and around her back to unfasten Santana's bra, still kissing.

She pulled the bra straps out, but kept Santana's shirt on, putting her hand through the neck hole and caressing Santana's breast, making Santana gasp and jerk a little and sending fireworks off behind her eyes. "Mmmm, don't stop," she whispered, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her whole body felt weak and fluttery and desperate, and every tiny movement Brittany made was the greatest tingling touch; it felt like Brittany was softly stroking something far deeper inside her than she'd ever reached before.

And then Brittany turned her, keeping a hand on her boob and her body tight against Santana's, and the other hand drifted down to Santana's thin jeans. Brittany's finger settled right above Santana's clit, which suddenly realized it was alive and desperate for her. Santana gasped again, and then moaned, "I want you so bad right now."

Brittany took advantage of the greater traction and superior position outside Santana's pants to trace little circles around the area, which was suddenly just so intensely amazing that it finally woke the part of Santana that _moved_. Santana brought her hand to Brittany's face and guided her to her lips, and then pulled Brittany close and squeezed her ass. She knew what her body wanted, and now she needed only to chart the course.

And this is how she did it. Sweet soft lady kisses, followed by a flip and switch that left Brittany on her back again. Then some teasing around the hips, to remind her what might - but wouldn't - happen soon, and then off with her shirt and dive into luscious womanly bosom, pausing only for air until Brittany said, "Santana, if you don't get these pants off me I'm gonna come right now."

So Santana helped Brittany with the overly stimulating pants, and Santana explored the newly bared skin until Brittany again warned her, "San, I really want to grind on you."

"You mean you want me?" Santana asked, slinking back up Brittany's body and grabbing her underwear roughly from behind.

Brittany gulped and nodded, so Santana pulled Brittany's underwear down to her knees and put her fingers between Brittany's legs. Bingo. Course charted and destination obtained.

Brittany was just swimming, soaking, and when Santana's fingers reached her she rolled her hips and even raised them off the bed to chase her teasing fingers. But when she looked in Brittany's eyes, Santana couldn't tease anymore. She kissed Brittany softly, grazing her clit, and then slipped inside her, two fingers sliding easily, deep.

The feeling was overwhelming, not as primal or raw as being penetrated herself, but somehow just as visceral. They were two before, and now they were one, coupling with an ardor that Santana had genuinely never felt in her life. Every deep stroke felt like it was driving Santana herself deeper into Brittany, and she recognized the jealous territoriality and possessiveness of the feeling, embracing it. Let this be her mark on Brittany - let this make her, body and soul, most absolutely hers.

That makes it sound like it was slow and sweet. It was not. Think of two lions. And then double the framerate. There was headtossing and breathy scream-moans, and lots of dark possessive looks, and Santana was thrusting her hips in time. Neither of the girls made it through that night without drawing at least a little blood, and this was their first time "together", after all; claws were out and all bets were off.

Santana flicked Brittany's clit, and Brittany breathed, "I love you, I love you, don't stop, no..." So she flicked again, watching Brittany's face. Brittany breathed, "No," again, and took Santana's thumb away, her body shaking. "Don't stop, don't want to... don't want to come, Santana..." By the time she breathed the last word it was too late, and her body was rippling, her cunt gripping and releasing, and Santana stroked her clit just to make it last longer, feeling her lover's orgasm in her gut and in her heart.

When it was over she looped a leg around Brittany's body and covered Brittany like a tent, nuzzling into her neck and settling in. "Damn," Brittany said.

"I don't have to stop," Santana observed, not expecting but hoping, hoping that Brittany would agree. Being inside Brittany, she realized, was definitely her favorite place in the world. Maybe talking about feelings really did make a difference. Who would have guessed.

But Brittany shook her head, sneaky fingers slipping the button out on Santana's jeans. "How come your clothes are on?"

"I forgot," Santana admitted.

Brittany's finger found her clit again, this time inside her underwear. "Damn," she said again, and this time she wasn't talking about the timing of her orgasm.


	5. Chapter 5: Failure

_This is an M-rated chapter! (rather than MA, which is what everything else is rated) _

_I know, disappointing._

_Thanks for the comments last chapter, and keep em coming! Tell me if you want graphic sex in every "chapter" (they're really just one-shots), or if this is okay._

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><p><span>Failure<span> (otherwise known as "My Own Queen")

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><p>She didn't want to face it, any of it. She'd been desperate to win Prom Queen as proof that she was accepted, wanted. She was just so afraid, afraid of the talks and the looks - afraid, now, of Brittany too. She was afraid because she was in love with a woman, and that woman was single. That woman wanted to go to prom with her, and make their love known.<p>

It was bad enough on Thursday and Friday, when they both still believed that Santana would come out on Brittany's melted cheese show. But in that final week before prom, as Santana threw herself into her scheming and campaigning, she could feel Brittany's eyes on her, naked and shameless. She'd been the object of such adoration before - what gorgeous junior hadn't? But this was Brittany. For the first time, the attention didn't stoke her ego at all. It made her heart beat faster, induced a delicious quivering in her belly. It distracted her utterly.

On Monday she'd just been afraid to face Disappointed Brittany, but then that nerdy guy interrogated her about the "gossip" post she'd done in a frenzy the day before, and she couldn't back down from it lest she sacrifice any chance she had at being elected. But Brittany had heard every word, and the look on her face was enough to make Santana carry all her books in her backpack and spend class breaks as far away from their lockers as possible.

Brittany called twice, once Monday night and once on Wednesday. But Glee club - that was the worst. Luckily there was only one big meeting, and the rest of the time was devoted to practicing the songs they'd perform during prom. Brittany's eyes had burned holes in her. She'd escaped unscathed, though, and so on Friday Prom night it had been nearly six days since they'd exchanged words. The last thing Santana had said to Brittany was, "I'll be right back." Brittany said, "I love you."

It couldn't still be true, not after that week.

She remembered rubbing her fingers together as she drove home, Brittany's juices almost dried on her fingers. It made rolls, and Santana had wondered if she could possibly be happier than when she was with Brittany. She'd just needed to change clothes.

"Kurt Hummel."

She rushed off the stage, finding the nearest door and flinging herself through it. Brittany followed, and it was so easy to drop back into their rhythm that Santana ranted for a few minutes about losing her all-important . Brittany listened, and comforted, and then explained. She said that the only reason people didn't vote for Santana was because they didn't really know her, and Santana knew she was talking about her lesbianism.

"I voted for you," Brittany said.

"Because you know I'm a lesbian?" Santana threw at her, ignoring the secret flip-flop her heart made when Brittany said that. It meant that she wasn't angry about Santana avoiding her.

"Because I know you," Brittany said simply, and walked forward, bringing Santana into the warmest hug two women in amazing prom dresses have ever had.

Santana couldn't help herself. She pressed her lips into Brittany's neck, saying, "I love you."

"I know," Brittany said, rubbing her back. "I'm not angry at you."

"Why not?" Santana said, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Brittany laughed, pulling away to look at her face. "I needed some time to figure myself out, too. It's confusing, being with someone, you can kind of... lose yourself."

Santana's eyes flickered and she looked away. That had never happened to her, but looking into Brittany's eyes right now was like falling off a cliff into a whirlpool. If that wasn't lost, she didn't know what was.

"Santana, I'm not going to push you, but I'm ready. Now, even more than last week. Now I know it's real. I'm not looking for comfort from you, and I'm not trying to justify having sex with you." She put it so bluntly that it made Santana wince. Love as a justification for sex? That Brittany might need to justify what they did was disturbing to her, and she once again realized her own cruelty.

"I really just love you," Brittany finished, trying to capture Santana's eyes.

"Thank you," Santana said. "But why? How could you ever love me. Look at me, I'm nothing. The one thing I've been trying to do..."

"You never cared whether people liked you before. Why do you care now?"

"Because..." _Because I thought I could win you_, Santana thought. Where had that gone so wrong?

She shrugged and shook her head. "It was just a game. I wanted to beat everyone else."

"Nobody won," Brittany pointed out. "Kurt didn't even want the stupid crown." Santana saw an idea form behind her eyes, and then Brittany dropped to one knee, holding one of Santana's hands. "Santana Lopez," she said. "Will you be my own queen?"

Santana smiled at that, and pulled Brittany to her feet. "Only if you'll be my king," she said.

"Well, I can't see anyone else fitting the bill," Brittany said, diving in for a kiss.

There was loud knocking on the door, and Santana backed away frantically from the kiss, just in time for Mercedes to open the door. "We've got a number! Right now!"

A regretful look passed between the girls as they headed to the door. "Later," Brittany whispered.

Later was twenty minutes after, down a hallway, around a corner and jammed against a drinking fountain in an alcolve. There isn't much to describe. Lips met in frantic passion, breasts were groped, and skirts lifted to the refrain of "Take me right now, right now." In seconds that changed to, "Harder, baby, harder, harder." Santana didn't come, which was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be fucked so hard it hurt, to feel Brittany's need through her fingers and deep into her. It was the most satisfying sex she'd ever had.

Finally she'd had enough and pulled Brittany's fingers out of her, making Brittany growl in frustration. "You didn't come," she said as Santana dropped to her knees and pulled down her panties. "Oh," she said. She said that last word many times, actually, pressed into the alcolve with the drinking fountain propping her up, pussy easily accessible under her simple short skirt. Brittany did come. She came several times.

"I want to fuck you in a bed," Santana said finally, knees aching.

"I drove," Brittany managed through a sticky throat, hoarse from harsh breathing.

The car wasn't a stick, so it was easy for Brittany to reach over with her right hand and fondle Santana's breasts. When they got to Brittany's house, though, Brittany slowed the pace to a crawl. She held Santana from behind and stared at the pair of them in the mirror, swaying gently. Their dresses clashed horribly, but it was quick work for Brittany to drop hers to the ground, and then she reattached herself to Santana's back, one arm possessively over Santana's body and the other fingering the slash that opened the dress at Santana's thigh.

"Don't you want me?" Santana asked finally, confused and almost hurt.

"You're so beautiful," Brittany said, running her fingers possessively over the smooth silk of Santana's dress, avoiding all erogenous zones.

Santana murmured in frustration, but it felt good, too. It didn't feel nonsexual to be looked at like this, and not just because Brittany was standing behind her dressed only in underwear, her breasts pressed full and firm against Santana's back. It felt a little like Brittany was just getting started, and the first step was consuming her with her eyes.

The second, evidently, was dipping down low and fingering Santana's ankles, unshod and smoothly hairless. Santana watched her in the mirror, docile, as Brittany worked her way up, bringing the dress with her. Santana helped, unzipping the side so that when Brittany made it to her belly she just took the dress and pulled it over her head, and then they were two naked women, one standing slowly to look deep in the other's eyes.

Santana returned the look, and then her gaze flicked back and she took Brittany around the waist, turning her slightly. "We're so beautiful," she said, echoing Brittany's words from before. Brittany's naked skin against hers was almost too much to bear, but Brittany was already turning away from their image, cupping the bottom of Santana's breast and capturing her lips.

It was a Friday night well-spent.

* * *

><p><span>Bonus Scene<span>!

Naya hadn't ever really wondered before. Liking boys was natural, and she was quite satisfied liking only boys. But being an ambitious girl, after avid fans misinterpreted her affection for Heather, she fanned the fire as much as she could. A fire meant a story. A story meant screen time, and more songs. It was perfect.

Except for the part where she was using her best friend for it. Heather was going along with it, not quite as enthusiastically, but not opposed. It felt strange - not wrong, but strange - to tell her best friend "I love you." After the fifth take, it didn't feel so strange anymore, though.

And after that she'd started wondering. Heather was beautiful. She couldn't lie; she'd already checked Heather out. Who wouldn't? And when the other woman sat close to her, where their bodies touched a warm sweet energy poured into her. It was love, of course. Friendly love, sisterly love, deep affection. She'd never thought it might be desire... Was it? Of course not!

Well, probably not. But alcohol - alcohol changes a lot. It wasn't too hard to go to clubs in LA, if you chose the punkier ones. People rarely noticed you, especially if you ignored them. And if you're dancing with a word-class dancer, other people are easy to ignore. Heather had been tutoring her, using alcohol as a tool of relaxation and "tapping into that inner Latina." But Naya had been paying attention, and the booze had gotten away from Heather, too. It didn't make her a worse dancer. If anything, it just sped her up.

Finally Heather put both of her elbows on either side of Naya's face, arms stiff and body still jamming. Naya slid her hands up her friend's back to clutch her tighter, tipping her head and lidding her eyes.

It was quick, hardly a kiss at all. Heather's look was a haze of drunken questions, which Naya assuaged by going in for a deeper kiss. It was met with sloppy fervor.

The taxi ride to Naya's apartment was oddly silent. Heather was going to stay over, but it was no surprise that she stayed in the cab. It wasn't heartbreak, either. Only awkward. They'd both been curious. It'd been hot.

But that was as far as it would go. Right?


	6. Chapter 6

It was Saturday night, and Brittany's parents were, as usual, out. Which meant Santana was staying the night. She skipped up the stairs, hoping to surprise Brittany.

As usual, that proved impossible, and Santana groaned in disappointment as the door opened preemptively. Brittany gave her a wicked look and dragged her into the room, shutting the door quickly behind her and pinning her to it, the full length of her body against Santana's. Santana suddenly realized that the last time she'd kissed Brittany was three entire days ago, and the last time they'd fucked was a week and a half ago, right after they finished their periods.

But Brittany wasn't kissing her. She was breathing into her ear, "I'm gonna fill you so full you'll never forget it. I'm gonna eat you up and you'll be so slick and warm that my bed will hate you." _Huh,_ Santana thought, and already she could feel electric tingles up her spine. Brittany walked her fingers up Santana's sides and Santana's mouth latched on to her neck, and then Brittany brought her hands down to her hips and traced her hip bones through her jeans.

Santana worked up Brittany's neck to her jaw, and then dove for her lips, hands moving up Brittany's body and getting completely sidetracked by her boobs. She hadn't meant to, but Brittany's erect nipples were just way too inviting through the thin cotton, and the moment she brushed them with her fingertips Brittany's tongue slipped against her lips. "I love you," Brittany said, and Santana cupped her left breast and grabbed Brittany's ass, pulling her hard against her.

Hard? _Huh,_ Santana thought again. She was sure that she could feel something foreign in Brittany's baggy pants, pressing against Santana's mound in a manner that she couldn't help but characterize as 'insistent.' She giggled and grabbed it for confirmation, but Brittany dodged. The fierce, playful look in Brittany's eyes was confirmation enough.

Santana tackled Brittany, pinning her to the bed, straddling Brittany's hips and thinking about it. Meanwhile Brittany snuck her fingers up under Santana's blouse to stroke her stomach. She loved Brittany's fingers more than anything; they were so soft and thin and excellent in every other possible way. But... variety was okay.

Finally she bent her head and kissed Brittany, grinding with her hips. Her lover took Santana's shirt off, and pushed her over, down onto the bed. She kissed Santana's belly, sending a shock of desire to add to the pool between Santana's legs, and then she unbuttoned Santana's pants, nuzzling at her underwear.

Santana pulled her pants off, saying, "You don't have to be so good to me."

"You deserve the best," Brittany said, and pulled down Santana's underwear to join her pants. She started slowly, and Santana shook her head, sparks going off behind her eyes. She honestly couldn't say what Brittany was doing with her tongue exactly, but it was truly unspeakably great. Why Brittany didn't like it was beyond her. Also why she didn't chain Brittany to the bed and force her to do this all day, every day.

What was really great about it, though, was watching Brittany's body move in similar delight. How Brittany could be such a perfect lover she had no idea, but she was not going to question a good thing that was hers.

She struggled to control her hips to make it easier for Brittany, but finally it was too much and she pushed Brittany's head away. She wasn't going to come this early. Brittany looked up, hurt flashing behind her eyes, and Santana pulled her up to kiss her, feeling a crazy rush of frustration from her body. Somehow it only made her want more.

She undid Brittany's pants, freeing the sparkly purple thing in them. She fingered the shaft experimentally, and Brittany moved forward eagerly, undoing Santana's bra with one hand. It was new, and actually sort of ambitiously big, even bigger than Puck. The comparison disturbed her and she thrust it from her mind, which was easy to do since at that very moment Brittany's mouth closed on her nipple.

Santana arched into it, rubbing her foot along the outside of Brittany's thigh, pushing the pants lower down and revealing the black straps around Brittany's ass. She put her arms around Brittany and hooked her foot over the straps, pulling her lover closer. Brittany was working hard on her nipple, which was insanely erotic but almost completely ungratifying. She wanted more.

Brittany's hand went between them, and then a finger probed Santana quickly. Her hips rocked up in response, and then Brittany's mouth stilled. A moment later Santana felt something cold and foreign-feeling press into her. It was big, she could tell already, but Brittany licked her nipple and then switched over to the other breast, grabbing the abandoned one in her other hand.

Santana pushed her hips forward, moaning a little. It was definitely huge. She could feel her own rawness around it, and she couldn't imagine it actually entering her, it was so big. Her body couldn't take it. Brittany was lavishing her body, but this was just impossible. She pushed up into Brittany, and it was still just opening her up still.

"It's too -" Her words were cut off by a sharp gasp as Brittany suddenly lunged forward, and the dildo came into Santana with brutal force. Brittany didn't move for a second, but with the bulbous head inside her it didn't hurt anymore. In fact, it felt fucking amazing, and it wasn't even very deep. Santana moaned throatily and ground into Brittany's hips, letting the slightly thinner shaft slip deeper inside, and then it was against her cervix and she winced a little, pushing her hips down, away.

Brittany's eyes were on her face, and she pulled away too, and Santana gasped as the dildo's head dragged along her inner walls. She was panting, she suddenly realized, and she drove forward with her hips. Brittany complied, starting to establish a rhythm.

But Santana was suddenly exasperated by missionary, and so, hooking her legs around Brittany's thighs, she flipped their positions so that she was straddling Brittany. The dildo hit her just right and she was shaking now, her fingers trembling as she threw back her head, remembering a second too late that she couldn't push it all the way inside. The pain was sweet, though, and she noted with amazement that she thought she might actually come like this.

She unbuttoned Brittany's shirt enough to reveal her bare breasts, but couldn't trust the position enough to bite her nipple, which is what she wanted to do. She settled for pinching, which made Brittany's hips pitch forward. Santana moaned and, wanting to kiss her, put her finger on Brittany's lip, which she immediately captured in her mouth.

That gave Santana an idea. She wasn't sure, but... She pulled her finger out of Brittany's mouth and ignored her pout, reaching behind herself and putting her hand against Brittany's thigh. She slid it down, leaning back and pushing that leg so that Brittany's legs opened.

She could see the raw need in Brittany's eyes, but it was nothing compared to the mess between her legs. Just feeling Brittany like that almost made Santana forget the dildo inside her, and she didn't hesitate a moment before diving into Brittany with two fingers. She could barely reach anything, and Brittany was so wet that her fingers got lost inside her.

She slipped another finger into the confusion and that's when Brittany's hips jerked forward, reminding Santana of the monster between her own legs. She moaned, pulling up and away from Brittany's body, and then she plunged her fingers into Brittany again, losing herself in making love to Brittany.

What was beautiful about it was that, although she was no longer paying attention, Brittany's movements moved the dildo. There wasn't enough room in Santana's head to think about the dildo and Brittany's soaking cunt, and the choice was obvious. Which meant that when she came, it was a complete and utter surprise. She felt her body trying to ripple around the enormous shaft, but there really wasn't enough room.

Her fingers had stilled inside Brittany, and when she finished she was so lightheaded she pulled out of Brittany and put her hands on either side of Brittany, wincing. It already hurt.

She raised her hips and got it over with quickly, and then she rested her forehead on Brittany's, trying to stop the world from spinning. When it did, she scooted down the bed and confronted the dildo. After considering it for a moment, she licked its tip, tasting her own juices. Emboldened, she put her mouth around its tip, and Brittany played along, moaning and doing an abbreviated thrust.

Santana released it and grinned up at Brittany, amused. Brittany was smiling somewhat vaguely back at her, and she went back to the dildo, sucking it off. Just for funsies.

Her fingers couldn't help but move back between Brittany's legs, though, and suddenly it was real again. Unbidden, a rush of arousal came back over Santana as she moved inside Brittany, the more familiar position granting her fingers their lost skill.

She got bored with the dildo and tried her tongue on Brittany's clit, which was accepted with some grace. Brittany's orgasm was much faster than Santana's.

When it was over, they lay on the bed together, exhausted, for ten minutes before Brittany stirred herself and unstrapped the dildo. They crawled, naked, under the sheets.

At some point in the night, Brittany's iPhone ran out of batteries. Luckily she had a movie editing program, so the uploaded video was not, in fact, four hours long.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: It was better before I wrote it down. Sorry for the disappointment. =P but hey, at least I updated! it's been a year :) I kinda liked the idea of a sex tape, but unfortunately I totally missed the episode on hulu, and the summary wasn't clear about who uploaded the sex tape. Did I guess right?**_


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